


Musical Boy

by motelsamndean (whalesandfails)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalesandfails/pseuds/motelsamndean
Summary: Dean made music when he moved.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Musical Boy

Dean made music when he moved. And Sam didn’t realize until Dean had come back. How the gentle clinking of silver bracelet against stone charms woke him from sleep quicker than he could imagine, a memory of a sound he had locked somewhere dark and secret. Soft socked feet padded into his kitchen, and Sam fought with a specter that looked like Dean, sounded like Dean, smelled like Dean – was Dean.   
Dean. Dean was here. In a world he didn’t belong to. And Sam didn’t even realize how much of his older brother his memory had let fade until he stood there, looking more than human, like putting on glasses for the first time. A vision made clear.   
\--  
They were in the car and every time Dean changed gears his bracelets knocked against each other. They were in the motel and Dean brushing his teeth sounded like the drum beat of Zep’s Travelling Riverside Blues, staccato motion as he hummed low in his throat. The sound he made with his lips when he flipped through his wallet looking for cash, like the echo of a whistle. How his necklaces knocked against one another when he bent over Sam to wake him in the morning. How even when they strode silently through woods at night Dean’s left knee clicked every time he walked.   
It was a goddamn symphony. A sound from the heavens. And Sam hated it – hated how the sound travelled down his spine and sent goosebumps along his arms, hated how he couldn’t ignore that it was Dean next to him.   
Hated that he had forgotten every iteration of noise Dean could make. Hated that he had missed when new ones had arisen. He hated Dean more than he ever had when he left the first time.   
Sam vowed that this was it, they would find Dad and he would go back to Jess and ignore how quickly he had attuned to the soft clinks and creaks of Dean standing close. How he had sighed every time Dean’s ring knocked against the window against the beat of Lynard Skynard. How his body had relaxed that first night to the soft whistling tune of Dean sleeping, how on a one-star motel bed he had slept better than he ever had at the dorms or with the girl he loved in his arms.   
He hated it. He hated Dean. He wished he never had the chance to remember these sounds at all – because now, now he’d miss them.   
\--  
Dean dropped him back off with a flash of teeth and the hum of Baby pulling away that sounded almost like Dean when he groaned awake in the mornings. He climbed the stairs two at a time, familiar in the dark. The steam meeting him when he strode in was familiar, too. So was the bed and lavender sheets as he flopped onto it, smelling of cheap diners and motor oil. He’d need a shower before bed, he knew how Jess’ nose would wrinkle.   
He lay flat on his back in his apartment, eyes closed, listening to the running water. A sound that had lulled him to sleep for the past two years. And suddenly it didn’t feel like home. He longed for the metallic susurrus that was Dean in the dead of night. He squeezed his eyes shut – no, no, here was home now. Jess was home.   
He opened his eyes.   
And then Sam… Sam watched his world burn.


End file.
